


Hug for one

by TheMostCrimsonOfCalicos



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Apocalypse, Crying, Death, Dependency, Fear of Death, Gen, Hope for death, Implied Gaster Blaster Sans, Infection, Selfishness, Thoughts of death, slight blood, unspecified reader gender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-08-22 08:49:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8279980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMostCrimsonOfCalicos/pseuds/TheMostCrimsonOfCalicos
Summary: Just the daily struggles of an apocalyptic situation.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I had this random idea and I wrote it down.

He's hurt.

That's the only thought on your mind at the moment, at least, the only really coherent one.

His eyelids are clenched shut and he's trembling, you're pretty sure you can hear rattling.

His soul is exposed. It shouldn't be. It was too private. Too vital. But he was infected so what were you expecting? 

As you peer at the center of his being from a distance, you notice how black corrosion had started to overtake his slightly craked, white soul. Another thought comes to mind.

You don't know what to do.

Most would've done it already. A mercy killing. But you couldn't. You didn't have the right.

You were both just two survivors who'd met by chance and decided to help each other out. Though, it was more like you'd helped him when he was injured and then followed him around like a baby duckling. He hadn't seemed like he'd wanted you there but had relented, as, if it wasn't for you, then he probably would've died.

But now it was the present. And he was infected with this incurable 'sickness'. And you were sitting a small ways away, tense, waiting for a solution to come to mind, because there had to be a solution. 

You duly note that you should stop getting your own hopes up. 

You had been looking away, you didn't want to watch his suffering if you didn't need to, when you heard a pained whimper. Your attention is quickly brought back to him and you scoot a little closer. His eyelights are small dots in his half-lidded sockets as he tries to keep his gaze steady.

You speak, in a voice cracked from thirst and slight misuse.

"You okay?"

Your worried expression wobbles from your idiotic question, and you feel like you're about to cry. He's not okay. You know he's not okay. He probably knows it too. So why ask? Were you expecting reassurance? Why ask in a situation where you knew you would get none? You were far too dependent on others, even when they needed you to be strong for them. 

You know he can see your discomfort, how far out of your element you are. You don't know what to do, what can be done, and you're scared, he can tell. So he tries his best to put you at ease.

You watch him give you a strained, breathless, smile. It comes out the same way in his voice. It hurts to listen to.

"not too bad. been better though."

With that, the tears that you had somehow managed to keep at bay start flowing freely and you break down into loud sobs. At this rate something was going to hear. Something would hear, and it would find you, and it would kill you, but you couldn't care. Not right now. There was too much to care about. I'd be nice if you could focus on one thing.

You wanted a hug. You wanted to be hugged and told that everything was going to be okay. But that would be a lie. You didn't want to be lied to. You also didn't want to know the truth. Not anymore. 

Sans looks startled. It makes sense though, you'd be startled too if someone just started crying. He looks like he's about to say something, reassure you, maybe? Hugs? Either would be nice. But then he winces and curls back up into a ball. The rattling is louder.

The blackness over his soul is spreading, almost at a halfway point, he doesn't have much longer. 

You're no longer sobbing, just wracking shivers, runny nose, and tears that won't stop flowing.

You start to back away. He'd want you to leave, right? Even if not, you really don't want to die. Death was the unknown, the blank, the nothingness, that was what you thought. You weren't at all ready to see if you were right. You really weren't.

But he sees you scooting away and his head darts up, eyelights become wide with panic. 

"wait, wait! don't. don't leave. please-please don't leave..."

He trails off into a whine. There's a desperation in his voice and equally in his face that you've never seen. Not on him. It makes you scared. It makes you angry. He was asking you to die. You couldn't leave now. He had killed you. How selfish.

You let 'selfish' slip from you lips. He sheds silent tears into chipped, bony fingers.

The blackness was past the halfway point by now, you were sure.

You crawl back over to him. You touch his skull and he fliches, but doesn't pull away. Did he think you were going to kill him? That was unfortunate. Maybe he had thought that you would put him out of his misery. You wouldn't though, couldn't anyway, your gun was stored safely in your backpack that had been yanked off of you. He probably doesn't know. You hope someone else finds and uses the gun for good. To protect someone they care about.

You let yourself fall over next to him and shift yourself closer. You were kind of tired actually. Sleep, sleep, plain old sleep that you would wake up from, didn't sound bad. Not at all. Especially curled up next to someone. 

You lay and you think. Maybe this was his mercy. Instead of leaving to die out there, alone and afraid, you could die right next to him, with him. He'd lose his mind and form and maybe you'd lose your body and thoughts while you slept. Dying with someone sounds far better than dying alone.

"Merciful."

You hope that that makes up for what you said earlier. You wouldn't say anymore, there wasn't anything to be said really.

As you close your eyes you're surprised when you feel an arm lay over you. You glace up to see Sans staring levelly at you, trying to mask his pain. His tone is tired, subdued, defeated.

"thanks, kid."

You hum in response and Iean close into the weak embrace. Not the best nor most comfortable hug, not by a long shot. You appreciate it regardless. 

"it's gonna be okay."

You suppose he was talking to you. He could very well be talking to himself. He was lying, but the lie was welcome. Reassurances were nice. Even if they were false.

You hope that he will make it quick for you and slit your throat while you were asleep. It would be painless as long as you were asleep, right?

You quickly drift of into an unrestful sleep while Sans stays awake, unable to do so himself.

 

____

You awake to agonizing, piercing pain in your abdomen. There are fangs tearing into your flesh. You scream. The living nightmare pulls back, letting your gaping wounds bleed, and blood starts to gurgle up in your throat. It's hard to breathe. 

The monsters' fangs are stained with blood, yours, and doesn't even look anywhere near the monster that you'd cuddled with a few hours earlier.

The beast growls and looks into your eyes.

...

...

...

Not a hint of recognition anywhere. You'd already told yourself about getting your hopes up. You should have listened to yourself.

It pins you with large claws, and deters you from movement with glistening red teeth. 

Sans growls. He lunges for your neck.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me if there's anything I need to tag. Comments are appreciated. (Kudos are too, of course.)


End file.
